What Belongs
by Toraptor
Summary: Xemnas didn't have the imagination to fathom the end. It didn't stop him from trying.


_What Belongs_

The end of the world was relative. Crush an anthill and it would be the end of their insignificant little world. Destroy a building and people would rebuild it, but the scars would always exist, in memory and landscape.

Xemnas remained loyal to the cause with an upright zeal. There was a second he doubted, but—

_But_.

Sometimes, in the dark of the night, he wondered what they sky would look like without stars. He had not the heart to care, as he knew all too well, as others knew, as Master Xehanort reminded him despite his not needing it, but he wondered. He imagined the sky swept clean of lights and tried to picture what a reset would look like. Of course, he failed. He couldn't imagine something he couldn't fathom.

Privately, he knew a world of pure light was a conundrum. Light cast shadows, and shadows were darkness. Stars were only visible for the darkness that illuminated them.

It left him puzzling in the elements for hours.

Xigbar stopped by on more than one occasion, all smiles and a glinting eye, talking as though there was a cleverly hidden joke in every word. The amount of riddles spouted in a single sentence was enough to make Xemnas want to shake him, and he was rather fond of wordplay himself.

Once Xigbar was gone, Xemnas was left to ponder whether or not Xigbar's wit would remain in the next world. And then he wondered if Xigbar would even be in the next world.

Xemnas certainly wouldn't exist. He was never intended to exist at all, a result of the unholy combination of righteous Terra and scheming Xehanort. (Gullible Terra and clever Xehanort; compassionate Terra and cruel Xehanort).

Now, it was Saïx who interrupted his solace.

Except it wasn't much an interruption if he was summoned by Xemnas, standing perfectly silent and obedient. He was built like a statue, expressionless and poised, never breaking character. Xemnas had never trusted him, not even once, but it was with a level of amusement that he entertained the idea Saïx had ever been truly loyal.

Anyone else, Xemnas would have had killed. There was a reason Marluxia and Zexion, two of the ones most likely to understand the Organization's true purpose, were sent to Castle Oblivion. Vexen's death back then had been an accident—a misplacement of resources. Sending him to the Castle was a mistake.

Saïx was different, because Xemnas had been playing their game of cat and mouse even before the Organization. It was indulgence of the highest order, but it passed the time during those years with the original Organization, and it would have been—dare he even think it?—regrettable to kill Saïx.

So, he pretended not to notice when Saïx turned his head the other way, as Demyx smuggled a conspicuously body-shaped figure out of Vexen's laboratory. He pretended not to notice when Saïx swept the young number Fourteen under his wing. He pretended not to notice the break in tide when Saïx enjoyed ice cream on a clock tower with the enemy.

Saïx was a traitor, but as long as no one else noticed—well, it wasn't as though they could lose either way.

* * *

Xemnas thought he could hear cosmic laughter in the end, a gaping wound in his chest that was both physical and not.

The ease of apathy had been stripped away, torn from his chrysalis. His wings were underdeveloped and frail. He had no name for the chaotic upheaval tearing apart the withered heart in his chest. Death was equal parts welcoming and horrifying, the enclosure of nothingness over which he had not an ounce of control.

It was hilarious, sickeningly so, how those final moments had a habit of tearing away the truth from him. Their victory was still assured, but Xemnas inexplicably felt as though they'd lost something deeply.

Or, perhaps it was a simple reaction to the cold triumph in the winners' eyes.

"You have a heart, Xemnas. I know you do."

Or, was it cold triumph?

In his race to discover the secrets of the heart, he seemed to have forgotten how to exist with one.

It took incredible strength to exist as a human, pinned under the torrential flow of emotion, always changing and pulling and pushing. He had the words for them, but not the understanding to connect them, so he was left, for all of two seconds, hanging by the fleeting beat of his heart.

The others would live on, victory assured or not, but for Xemnas, it was—

_Over_.


End file.
